


He was a lot of things.

by MsMadieurne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Denial, Estonia is 18 in this AU btw and Sweden is about 20? idk lol, I dunno man i just, M/M, Prompt inspired, SweEst, Sweden x Estonia, Ugh I love these two so much you don't even know, movies - Freeform, really needed to make a fic based on these two stupid neRDS, sweden being an awkward bean, ugH lord save me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7816084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMadieurne/pseuds/MsMadieurne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laas was a lot of things, evidently. But he never really thought being gay was one of them. He could remember this story in particular, and it made him a little nostalgic to retell it. Hell, he could consider it cute...</p>
<p>Inspired by a prompt found on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He was a lot of things.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt inspired thing on Tumblr;
> 
> Person A works as a cashier at the cinema and person B comes in the same day every week and buys tickets to the same kids film. Person A is concerned but they don’t know that person B only comes in because they want to see A but are too scared to asked them out. (Not so much going to the movies but…)
> 
> Evidently, I don't know how being a cashier works, but I tried my best!
> 
> Laas is Estonia, Bernardus is Sweden.

Laas was a lot of things, evidently. But he never really thought being gay was one of them. He could remember this story in particular, and it made him a little nostalgic to retell it. Hell, he could consider it  _ cute _ .

It was a warm day. Picking up his book and sliding into his shift at the ticket booth, Laas sat comfortably in the booth, only ever casting his gaze from his book to the customers as they exchanged money for their tickets. Nothing ever really happened that were interesting enough to tell, despite the one-off time a nice old lady stayed around a little longer to talk about the book he was reading at the time. He had a new book now though, although it was a little bit of an outdated one at that. He had to improve his English though, at least.

One particular evening, with the time and day practically burned into his memory bank from the consistent amount of times he’s had to deal with the same man, every single week. It was quite warm that day, the first day he met  _ him _ . The Estonian’s chartreuse eyes trained idly on the page of his book, cheek resting against his hand as his elbow propped on the desk. He must’ve been not listening or something, as the sound of a large knuckle tapped on the glass of his booth, causing Laas to gaze up in slight surprise. What he saw was almost scary, certainly intimidating.

Bright, penetrating icy blue hues, hardened with a slight scowl and a squint, staring at the shorter male through a pair of glasses.

“One adult ticket to see--” He heard the man say, though his voice was so low and gruff in his memory, he couldn’t exactly remember the movie he asked to see. Printing out the ticket from the machine, the Baltic man tugged the papers from it before handing it over, punching in the price. Taking the note, he slid it in, and handed the change to the-- what seemed to be-- Swedish man, a small smile on Laas’ face. He didn’t remember a whole lot from that exchange but… He remembered their fingertips brushing together. He felt the taller man tense up immediately, and at that moment he simply brushed it off.

“Please enjoy the movie!” he chirped brightly to the man, and the only thing he saw before turning back to his book was the sight of the man’s slightly flushed cheeks, and a soft grunt of acknowledgement as he turned to the direction of the screen the movie he was seeing was.

Strange…

* * *

 

So, every week, on a Saturday, at 5:10pm, this Swedish man would come, not a second too late to see the exact same movie. Honestly, it was concerning Laas, especially when on this particular week they weren’t showing the movie he wished to see. 

“I’m sorry- We’re not showing that this week-” Laas apologised gently to the rather burly-looking man, a sheepish expression on his face as he tried to search for the movie title. It just wasn’t there at all. He felt bad because the other seemed to bashful because of that. “You…. You see the same movie every week, you know. Doesn’t it get boring?” the Estonian asked suddenly, before his canine hooked his bottom lip in trepidation- as if he had somehow offended or upset the other. His worries were supposedly confirmed as the tall man seemed to show a little apprehension to gaze at him like he usually did, piercing pale blue eyes casting down to…. His book.

“... Das Moby Dick. Aye…?” suddenly his gruff voice lowly offered. Was he trying to start a conversation? He was a little happy to oblige, as Laas’ eyes seemed to brighten.

“Oh, yes! I’ve just finished chapter eleven. Are you a fan of Herman Melville?” he confirmed, tone turning questioning, but the Baltic man seemed to have qualmed his worries for the conversation. With a nod, the older man traced the words on the page through the glass with his narrowed eyes. His scowl seemed less personal… It felt like he just was hard of sight. Well-- that wasn’t hard to tell from the glasses thicker than the Estonian’s perched on his face.

“‘S a good book.” came the words of response, and Laas’ expression warmed, nodding in agreement.

“I think so too.” the shorter of the two mumbled. “Would you like me to suggest a different movie?” the cashier offered to the man, and to his surprise, he got no reply. Glancing up to the man, he paused as he realised the other seemed to be staring at him, lips pursing together as if the man was trying to say something. Like he wanted to ask Laas a question. Fingers swept underneath the Estonian’s bangs as he tried to pull them from his face-- he should really get a haircut -- and he waited for the other to speak. “... Sir?” he called to the taller, and strangely enough, the iceberg blue eyes inched up his face a fraction, to meet his eyes.

How… peculiar.

Lips parted briefly, the faintest of pinks on the Swede’s cheeks and he could practically feel the tension. He could practically feel the man’s need to ask him something, as if it was the most important question to ask. When Laas realised he was spending too much time staring at his face, particularly this man’s  _ lips, _ the Estonian cleared his throat and practically tore his gaze away, down to the register in front of him. 

“.... Nevermind..” he heard the other mutter, as if he’d lost his nerve to a half-asked question that was never asked. Grassy orbs turned up to watch the tall man saunter away from the register, but it didn’t feel so casual anymore. It looked more like a walk of shame.

… From what, though?

* * *

 

It’s been about three months now, same day every week, same time, same consistency. The man shows up, he buys his ticket, but now he stops for a minute to stare at Laas expectantly, before he saunters off to his movie screen. It unnerves the Estonian  _ every time _ , but he can’t help but feel his cheeks flush now that he stares at his eyes. Like something in them asks the question the other is dying to ask, or says something that Laas wants the other to utter.

He’s never felt this way before, he’s never thought about these things with a man-- no,  _ especially _ a man-- and it scares him a little. He’s not gay! At least…. He never thought that about himself… Did he? He’s always acknowledged some men’s attractiveness, and he himself has never seen himself as attractive as them, but… That wasn’t the same! Was it? No, it couldn’t be!

…. Could it?

Gnawing his lip, Laas rested his head in his hands, mulling over his concerns, his worries. His questions needed to be answered somehow, but for once he couldn’t rely on the internet for answers. He must’ve not been listening, as he heard the soft tapping on the window of his booth, the same tapping he’d heard… the first time he’d met the man.

“Er.. Ya gave me th’wrong ticket.” came a meek, but deep, voice, and the Estonian glanced up to look at the man. Blinking, he reached to grab the ticket, staring at it for a moment. Furrowing his brows, he shook his head, rubbing it gently. He’s never done that before- how could he mess up so long into his first job?

“Ah- I’m terribly sorry! I’ll exchange it.” he apologised, tapping in the digits to the price of the ticket, and shaking his head, taking the right ticket out. How… How did he mess up if all the man ever came to the cinema for was  _ the exact same movie every single fucking time _ ? Taking the change, he set it on top of the ticket and held it up to him, setting it in his palms, and as soon as their fingertips brushed gently together, Laas’ cheeks ignited with a slight flush. The Estonian bit his lip, covering his mouth as he cast his gaze aside out of embarrassment.

The man did not leave. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t  _ leave _ . He just stayed there. Oh God,  _ why wasn’t he leaving _ ? Did he want something else? Did he notice the flush on his cheeks? 

“I, ah….” he heard, and Laas willed himself to take a glance back up to the man. To his surprise- the man seemed  _ guilty _ . The look on his face said it all. “Ya… Y’didn’t really mess up.” he admitted, which caused Laas to pull a face, confusion set in stone. What? How did he not mess up? He got him the wrong ticket!

“I asked fer the wrong ticket.” came the man’s response, which only seemed to confuse the Baltic even  _ more _ .

“Wh… Why…?” he stammered his response, squinting his estrange. The man wasn’t looking at him, he seemed to be looking down at his book again, which caused him to wonder even more. He’d done that once before… Coincidence? Something told him that wasn’t really the case. Last time he’d been wanting to ask Laas a question, something he seemed to be dying to ask, and his lips were parted now, which made the shorter of the two really wonder what his intentions were.

The man muttered something, low and too accented to hear. It was almost in a different language.

“What?” Laas asked confusedly. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you, sir..” The man seemed to grow a little flustered…. It was almost cute to Laas. Wait- was that gay? Was it gay to think that this attractive, muscular man, looked cute with that flush on his face- fuCK IT WAS DIFFICULT TO DECIPHER.

“... Nevermind.” came his response, yet _ again _ . But Laas wasn’t satisfied one bit. Not one bit whatsoever. He  _ had _ to know. He had to.

“Tell me.” he asked, his tone firm as he leaned close to the window of the booth, watching the taller man with intent, demand, expectation. The man towering above him seemed to grow even more nervous. Only now he was realising just how tall this man was. Now Laas was not in one single bit short, hell he wasn’t even scrawny. But the other seemed to make him look so small, and he was 5’10”! That’s not short at all! This man seemed to almost have a foot on him, just a little bit less. At  _ least _ eight inches on him. 

“...-- Coffee.” was what Laas heard once he came back down to earth. Coffee? Huh?

“Wh-”

“Coffee. Do ya drink it…?” the man butted in, almost knowingly. Laas nodded meekly, confirming after a moment. This Swedish man seemed to grow almost more confident as he repeated his former request.

“... Would ya like t’go out fer coffee…? Don’t hafta be t’day.” He asked the Estonian, who had by now paused, chartreuse hues seemingly widened with shock, confusion. Was he… being asked out? By a  _ man _ ? Surely… surely this couldn’t be a romantic request, but the flush on the Swedish man’s face got him thinking otherwise and it was terrifying, so scary. He couldn’t be gay, he hasn’t ogled a man in his life (which was a lie, if he actually thought about it), and he has never ever thought about another man, dating one, kissing one. He could never agree to this, it just wasn’t right for him! He could… never….

“Yes.” tumbled out of the Estonian’s mouth, hanging open slightly, eyes seemingly absent-minded, watching the other. Before he could even realise, he was staring at the other with a gentle gaze. His heart felt like it was racing, but he felt some sort of relief flow through him at his own response… Elation, perhaps? “How does after work sound?”

The man nodded. “... ‘m Bernardus. Bern, if y’want.”

He wasn’t gay. He didn’t really think he was like that at all.

But he’d never looked into a man’s eyes and really appreciated how beautiful they were. Pretty. Just like the rest of him. So appealing to Laas.

Maybe this would change something? Or perhaps reveal something he never thought he was.


End file.
